At her words, the thought of her laying beneath him in a big bed, wine on her reddened lips as she beckoned to him derailed any chance of conjuring an appropriate response. Corinne paused for a half second, waiting for Delvin to respond, and when he didn't, she removed her hand and gave him that frustrating, teasing smirk he found so alluring. The moment had passed, and she was on her way out, leaving him behind, standing there, still racking his brain for something to say to her. It was like that every single time, last time she told him that he had perfect nimble fingers to untie her corset, should he ever be so lucky to get her out of her dress, and his thoughts were diverted to wondering what it would be like to undress her, rendering his wit useless.
"Until next time, Delvin." She nearly sang, swinging her hips as she headed towards the Cistern.
From one of the tables, he heard Brynjolf chuckle as she left. "Did she get you again, Delvin?"
"I never know what to say to her until two days after she's gone."
"Ah, Delvin, she's just testing you. I think she likes you." Brynjolf mused.
"That's because she doesn't know him yet." Vex offered in a loud, less than helpful voice.
"You're a real help, you are." Delvin said pointedly to Vex, who, stuck her tongue out at him in response. "She gets me all hot and bothered and then sweeps away like she's late for dinner." He was speaking more to himself than the other two, thinking aloud.
"You could get her to stay, if you tried hard enough." Brynjolf advised sagely. "It will just take a little more effort than you're putting into it."
"What does she want me to say?" He asked, genuinely curious. It seemed like Brynjolf had picked up on the same thing he thought, and having the outside confirmation reassured him. Abandoning the bar, he went to sit with Brynjolf, and hopefully pick up some insight on how to approach Corinne.
"You shouldn't need me to tell you, lad." Brynjolf answered quickly, but then he looked at Delvin and frowned absently as he got lost in thought. When he spoke again, his tone was quieter, almost pitying. "When was the last time you went after a woman?"
"During the Oblivion Crisis." Vex quipped. She'd strained to hear Brynjolf, edging her chair closer so she could continue listening to their conversation.
"She's not far off." Delvin said with a sigh. "It's been a long while."
"Well, from what little she's told me, she comes from a rich background, powerful family. She'll be expecting roses and confidence, not your offers of drinks in the sewer."
"So what do you recommend?" Delvin leaned in closer.
"Leaving her alone." Vex answered again, and this time, Brynjolf looked annoyed at her interruption.
"Maybe we should talk about this elsewhere." Brynjolf offered, looking around the Flagon.
"Just tell me what I need to do to talk to Corinne. If she don't like me, well, there isn't much to be done after that. I just want a chance."
Brynjolf sighed, but gave in. "Listen close, because I won't be giving you this advice again. You'll need to practice before you can approach her, don't go spouting off lines like its a recital."
"I'm listening." Delvin said. And listen he did, as Brynjolf told him more about women than he'd ever needed to know. He never gave Brynjolf credit, but the man didn't go to bed alone if he didn't want to. Women fell over themselves for him, and he wondered just how much of it had to do with being called lass by handsome man.
A Lack of Wit 2/?
"Until next time, Delvin." She nearly sang, swinging her hips as she headed towards the Cistern.
From one of the tables, he heard Brynjolf chuckle as she left. "Did she get you again, Delvin?"
"I never know what to say to her until two days after she's gone."
"Ah, Delvin, she's just testing you. I think she likes you." Brynjolf mused.
"That's because she doesn't know him yet." Vex offered in a loud, less than helpful voice.
"You're a real help, you are." Delvin said pointedly to Vex, who, stuck her tongue out at him in response. "She gets me all hot and bothered and then sweeps away like she's late for dinner." He was speaking more to himself than the other two, thinking aloud.
"You could get her to stay, if you tried hard enough." Brynjolf advised sagely. "It will just take a little more effort than you're putting into it."
"What does she want me to say?" He asked, genuinely curious. It seemed like Brynjolf had picked up on the same thing he thought, and having the outside confirmation reassured him. Abandoning the bar, he went to sit with Brynjolf, and hopefully pick up some insight on how to approach Corinne.
"You shouldn't need me to tell you, lad." Brynjolf answered quickly, but then he looked at Delvin and frowned absently as he got lost in thought. When he spoke again, his tone was quieter, almost pitying. "When was the last time you went after a woman?"
"During the Oblivion Crisis." Vex quipped. She'd strained to hear Brynjolf, edging her chair closer so she could continue listening to their conversation.
"She's not far off." Delvin said with a sigh. "It's been a long while."
"Well, from what little she's told me, she comes from a rich background, powerful family. She'll be expecting roses and confidence, not your offers of drinks in the sewer."
"So what do you recommend?" Delvin leaned in closer.
"Leaving her alone." Vex answered again, and this time, Brynjolf looked annoyed at her interruption.
"Maybe we should talk about this elsewhere." Brynjolf offered, looking around the Flagon.
"Just tell me what I need to do to talk to Corinne. If she don't like me, well, there isn't much to be done after that. I just want a chance."
Brynjolf sighed, but gave in. "Listen close, because I won't be giving you this advice again. You'll need to practice before you can approach her, don't go spouting off lines like its a recital."
"I'm listening." Delvin said. And listen he did, as Brynjolf told him more about women than he'd ever needed to know. He never gave Brynjolf credit, but the man didn't go to bed alone if he didn't want to. Women fell over themselves for him, and he wondered just how much of it had to do with being called lass by handsome man.